


Process of Elimination    The Rachel Chronicles 1

by Lightcudder



Series: The Rachel Chronicles [1]
Category: Gerry Anderson's UFO
Genre: Aliens, Angst, Blood, Darkness, Gen, Kisses, bombs. claustrophobia. hurt/comfort, pain. trapped, treachery.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightcudder/pseuds/Lightcudder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Straker needs a new security chief and  gets more than he bargained for</p>
            </blockquote>





	Process of Elimination    The Rachel Chronicles 1

** Process of Elimination;  ** First story in** ‘The Rachel Chronicles’**

Copyright July 1st 2009

With apologies to UFO purists. I have put SHADO into the 21st Century. This is set in 2009, just 4 years after SHADO began operations. Straker is approaching his 40th birthday. I have tried to keep the background the same. Please forgive any anomalies, and feel free to contact me with criticisms (constructive!) and comments. Not for profit, just indulging myself. Thanks as always to Commander Straker who behaved himself impeccably throughout this, unlike some other characters!

**Chapter 1**

August 2009

Peter Claybourne’s broken and mutilated body lay on the path, blood pooling beneath him in obscene imitations of Rorschach patterns. Sightless eyes stared up at clouds and light and shadows above. His handgun still in its holster, his last expression one of horror.

A tall, slender man, impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal-grey suit, approached the scene. White cuffs with platinum cufflinks framed long-fingered hands. Close-cropped silver blonde hair reflected sunlight, aviator styled sunglasses hid his eyes. A commanding figure, he walked purposefully with long, confident strides towards the small group clustered around the victim.

There was a sharply hissed intake of breath as Straker saw the corpse for the first time. He bent down, heedless of the congealing blood and placed one hand on the unseeing eyes, closing them for the last time.

‘Dear God, what a mess,’ he whispered to his lifeless colleague. ‘If only you had waited for back up, Pete, none of this would have happened.’

He stood up, wiping his blood stained hands on a handkerchief if to remove the taint of death.

‘I want him taken to the Medical Unit as soon as you’ve finished clearing up here.’ he instructed the waiting team. ‘I’ll be waiting.’

He did not wait for their acknowledgement, secure in the knowledge that they would do as ordered.

He turned away, sickened by the coppery stench of blood and the sight of the ruined corpse of one of the longest serving members of SHADO and crossed over to the two remaining security team members who were currently being treated by the SHADO paramedics.

‘I want your full reports by the end of the day. I also want clarification of why Colonel Claybourne went against my express orders by authorising this operation. If he had survived this incident he would be facing a Court Martial for his actions. You might want to bear that in mind.’ Straker’s voice was hard and emotionless, and he walked away without glancing back.

‘Callous bastard. Pete said the boss didn’t give a damn about anyone except himself.’ one of Claybourne’s security men, muttered with disgust as Straker drove off, past the remains of the UFO and two red-suited alien bodies.

‘If that’s what being the top man does for you, he’s welcome to it’ Michael Jenson agreed. ‘He’s a soulless robot. Pete would be here now if Straker had given him back-up for this mission. It’s Straker who should be blamed for what has happened.’’

Straker pulled his Saab into the reserved parking space at the Harlington Straker Studios complex. Turning off the engine he waited, subdued and pensive, reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the vehicle. He did not want to have to get out and face the reality of this day. To have to deal with the post-mortem for Peter Claybourne, his acquaintance and associate for years. To have to deal with informing the staff that Pete was dead. To have to tell his family. To face the silent accusations from the Security Department that he, Straker, was somehow responsible for the debacle that led to Peter lying on a cold steel slab in the mortuary, being autopsied and inspected by Schroeder. He did not want any of this.

The gate security guard came over and tapped on the window.

‘Mr Straker, sir, is everything all right?’

Straker looked up, startled by the guard’s approach. ‘Oh yes, everything’s fine Max, just wondering where I left my Blackberry this morning. I seem to have misplaced it. Miss Ealand probably has it tucked away in her office, knowing her.’ Straker smiled up at the guard, but his eyes were cold and distant. Leaving the warmth of the car he walked into the Reception area of the studios and entered his private sanctum, guarded by Miss Ealand.

‘Commander Straker, I am so sorry to hear about Colonel Claybourne. Is there anything you need me to do?’

‘Thankyou Miss Ealand, can you get the contact details for his family. I know he divorced some years ago, but he had family in Canada and I think there were a couple of recent girlfriends. I want to speak to each of them personally as soon as possible.’ Straker’s voice was subdued and grim. He went into his inner office and flicked up the lid of the silver cigarette case in one smooth, practised movement.

‘Straker.’

‘Voice Print identification positive. Commander Straker’ a toneless computer generated voice confirmed. The entire room descended. There was no sound, just the room itself, moving rapidly downwards, silently, without friction.

He waited, motionless, tight lipped and frowning.

The door, by which he had entered, opened. Outside: not the inviting main reception area with sofas, promotional posters, full-length windows and an efficient yet friendly receptionist. Straker strode out into a bleak corridor, austere white, with smooth unadorned walls. The only break in this icy landscape was the large plaque bearing the acronym ‘SHADO’.

He barely noticed the sign. Alec and he had worked here since Shado’s inception, and the underground complex was utterly familiar to him. He knew every inch of its reinforced concrete walls, knew every conduit, every circuit and every installation. He had helped designed the base, and had overseen its creation from the first blueprints to the day when Shado opened for business. And he had been in charge of the complex and its vast and ever-growing network of bases, support units and myriad staff members since the day the first computer was switched on and the first UFO was destroyed in the Earth’s atmosphere. And now, just four years after that start, Peter Claybourne was dead.

He walked wearily out into the sterile corridor towards the Control room. Keith Ford looked up as Straker entered the active nerve centre of SHADO.

‘Commander is it true about Colonel Claybourne?’ Ford quietly asked.

‘Yes, Lieutenant. The aliens set a trap and he walked right into it. They are bringing his body in shortly. Please let me know when the ambulance arrives.’ Straker was quiet and impassive.

He strode the last few paces to his office and closed the door. Dropping despairingly into the chair behind the bulwark of his desk, he rested his head in his hands. There was too much to do to be able to spend time mourning Peter Claybourne, but memories of the early days of SHADO flashed into his mind.

Pete, dressed in torn, oil-stained overalls, crawling along the narrow conduit tubes to access yet another faulty connection in the electronic systems. Pete laughing riotously as Alec Freeman struggled to get suited up in a mock decompression exercise. Alec, Pete and Craig trying in vain to persuade him to have a glass of champagne to toast the successful launch of the first lunar shuttle.

Pete, refusing to wait for back up despite Straker’s specific orders.

Pete. Dead and dissected by aliens.

At least there was irrefutable proof of his death. Unlike Craig Collins, Peter’s body could be laid to rest.

One more statistic for the IAC. One more death to be hushed up. One more casualty on his conscience. He should have insisted that Peter remain in the base instead of dashing off to play the great hero. He knew that Peter had become more than a little unpredictable recently, rushing into situations without careful planning, but he had intended to give him a change of scene in the next month by promoting him to Controller of the new Hawaiian complex. He should really have removed Pete from active service, but Henderson had appointed Claybourne and refused to consider any change in the personnel. Now it was too late. Was it his fault? Should he have foreseen this tragedy? And how reliable was Colonel Claybourne’s old team? He now had serious doubts over the reliability of the SHADO HQ Security Section.

Damn you Pete, Straker thought, you always thought you knew best. You were so convinced of your own immortality that you put everyone else at risk. Your team nearly died alongside you. I don’t know if I can forgive you for that. How many more deaths will I have to deal with?

His intercom flashed and Miss Ealand, ever efficient, relayed a list of names and telephone numbers.

He reached for his phone and began the first of the calls.

It was appropriate weather for the funeral of Peter James Claybourne, “Harlington Straker’s” Security Chief. Dark and overcast, with dampness in the air that foreshadowed heavy rain, the sky on that Wednesday afternoon was sullen and depressing.

Straker stood at the back of the small country church listening to the priest’s eulogy. The majority of the mourners were SHADO staff, paying their last respects to a man they had known and respected. The Security department were present in force, standing together as if to support each other. He noticed Jenson, surrounded by his colleagues. As if aware that he was being watched, Jenson looked around and stared at Straker with eyes devoid of emotion or recognition. Claybourne’s family, however, were noticeable by their absence. Not surprising, seeing that he had had virtually no contact with them since joining SHADO.

He studied the scene; Alec Freeman standing in the middle of the congregation with Colonel Lake, and Keith Ford; flowers and wreaths on the oak coffin, the priest, solemn and deferential in purple robes

Straker remained alone. His presence here an intrusion into the grief felt by a close-knit community. He was an outsider and as soon as the service had concluded he returned to his car and drove away. He would mourn Pete Claybourne in his own way. Peter would be cremated according to his last wishes and Straker fully intended to carry out the final request of his colleague.

‘Ed, when I die I want to go into space. Make sure that whatever happens, my ashes end up on an orbit that takes me way past Saturn out to edges of the Solar System.’ Claybourne, his voice slurred with alcohol, had been celebrating Moonbase’s first successful defence of Earth and he and Freeman had been drinking 18 year old Ardbeg whisky. The conversation, as so often happened, had come round to their own mortality and both Claybourne and Freeman had expressed a desire to be ‘buried in space’ as they put it.

Straker remembered his own request. ‘I don’t care what they do with me, as long as I can get some sleep’ he had said half-jokingly, exhaustion creeping into his voice despite the elation at having been victorious in their first lunar defence.

But that was a long time ago. Pete was dead. And he had to pick a new Security Chief, preferably one who would follow orders. Tomorrow he would have to start the serious business of finding a replacement. He would have to go through the personnel files very carefully. There would be no costly mistakes this time.

**Chapter 2**

Harlington Straker security was busier than normal for a Thursday morning. Director, actor, production team; it didn’t matter if you had a pass signed by God and authorised by the Pope himself. Today you were not driving through the Harlington Straker entrance until your security clearance had been double-checked. And then re-checked. Every little detail was picked over while tempers flared and the queue got longer and, by inverse proportion, more short-tempered. Uniformed patrolmen took passes and scrutinised them, phoned for confirmation and then faxed details to central office.

Straker’s Saab overtook the waiting queue of traffic and pulled into his space outside the Main Entrance portico. The metallic paint gleamed in the fresh morning light, twin exhausts roaring powerfully before the engine grumbled to silence.

Looking over at the chaos that was the Main Entrance, he frowned, then turned back and strode swiftly into the calm reception area of the studio.

Miss Ealand watching impassively from her office overlooking the main entrance, smiled ruefully as Colonel Freeman walked over to try to intercept his boss. Straker’s eyes from were icy cold and blazing with suppressed anger.

‘Well, Miss Ealand? What on Earth is going on out there?’ There seem to be more cast and crew outside the grounds than inside! I presume there is a good reason for this?’

‘And good morning to you too, Ed.’ Alec Freeman’s laconic Australian drawl contrasted sharply with Straker’s clipped American pronunciation. ‘You can blame it all on me. Miss Ealand had nothing to do with this at all. We had an anonymous letter delivered to the studio early this morning. A rather direct threat at you. It was found on Miss Ealand’s desk at about 4.30 by the nightwatch team. I spoke to our security this morning and asked them to be a little heavy-handed with the usual procedures today. It might be enough to stop this joker – as long as it is a hoax and not the real thing. I need to talk today about setting up additional security for you ........’

‘I do not need any security at all,  Alec. I am quite capable of looking after myself.’

‘......at least for a couple of weeks.’ continued Freeman coolly. ‘I’m not going to argue with you Ed, this is going to happen whether you like it or not, so you may as well shut up and stop complaining. Besides, until we replace Peter we need to be extra vigilant.’

With a look that would wither an oak tree, Ed Straker, former astronaut and now boss of Harlington Straker Film Studios, the Commander-in-Chief of the most clandestine military operation ever in existence, nodded to his secretary and entered the undercover world of SHADO.

He signed the last of the documents, neatly stacked them together and returned them to their folders. He looked up as the door to his office opened and Alec walked in, carrying two mugs, one of which he handed to Straker.

‘Hot and sweet with extra caffeine. Just what you need Ed.’ Freeman’s voice was jovial but held an undercurrent of concern. ‘Look, why don’t you leave the reports and take a break. Go and look round the studios. Heaven knows it’s been long enough since they saw you there. Some of the producers are beginning to wonder if you still work here. Fresh air would do you good as well.’

Straker interjected before his second-in-command could continue.

‘I don’t think they would be particularly pleased to see me today after the chaos with security this morning. Speaking of which.........’ he looked at Alec, one of the few people that he hoped he could truly call a friend. ‘Yes, I know, I didn’t react well this morning. Sorry for that, but after the past few days I was hoping things would get a bit easier. Thanks for the coffee. I’ve been looking over the personnel files; Peter Claybourne will be a hard act to follow.’

‘Anyone in mind? Or are you looking at making an external appointment?’ Freeman queried.

‘I’m keeping an open mind about that for now,’ Straker replied cautiously, unwilling to express his concerns about the Security Department, and in particular Michael Jenson. The interim Security Chief was acting, since Pete’s death, in a manner that could be described as erratic. Granted he had been found unconscious after the alien attack, and had complained of headaches, but Straker had a gut feeling that there was something more sinister in his behaviour. He regretted not spending more time with the security division recently. He had a feeling that there was more to Jenson’s behaviour than mere resentment at Pete’s death.

‘I’m going to miss him Ed.’ Alec Freeman admitted. ‘Claybourne was one of the few people who could drink me under the table. I had a few glasses yesterday at his wake, in his memory, but it wasn’t the same. Which reminds me. I didn’t see you there. Any particular reason?’

Straker was silent for a few moments. ‘His team believe I was responsible for Peter’s death. Even though I had ordered him to stay out of the target zone until back-up arrived, he went ahead and got caught as a result. It wasn’t the first time he had done that and his team were complicit in his actions. I told them that I would have court-martialled Peter if he had survived, Henderson or no Henderson.’ he stated bitterly. ‘I suppose in time they will get over it, but the new Chief is going to find it hard going to start. Pete had a charismatic personality and it’s not easy to replace someone like that even if he was an individualist at times.’

Freeman nodded and picked up a thin stack of folders from the conference table. ‘These the candidates for the short list?’

Straker nodded. ‘I’ve whittled it down to six. I’m taking the files with me and I’ll make a decision tonight. Hopefully we can get the security complement back in full operation by the end of the week.’

Once Alec had left the office, Straker reached for his intercom.

‘Miss Ealand, get me the number for the Funeral Director that dealt with Colonel Claybourne, please.’

‘Certainly Commander.’ Her voice held a note of surprise. Within moments she had the number for him.

Straker flicked the switch to lock his office door and dialled the number. It was not directly against the rules to use his security clearance for personal matters such as this, but it was frowned upon. He didn’t care though. Pete Claybourne’s last wishes would be granted.

Ten minutes later he put down the phone. It was sorted. He would collect Pete’s ashes from the Crematorium tomorrow. SHADO had been Pete’s family and it was Straker’s duty to see that Peter Claybourne’s mortal remains ended up where they should, on a long curving trajectory heading out into space.

He unlocked the office door, picked up his briefcase and went out into the bustle of the control room.

‘Anything to report Lt Ford?’ he queried.

‘No Sir, all stations report Condition Green.’

‘Very good. Contact Moonbase and tell Colonel Ellis that I’ll be arriving tomorrow on the lunar shuttle for a 24 hour visit. I’ll contact her later with the details’ Straker’s quiet, clinical voice gave no indication as to his emotions. Keith Ford looked up at his Commanding Officer as if to ask why he was going to Moonbase, but after one look at the expression on Straker’s face, decided against it.

‘Yes Sir, will there be anything else?’

‘Notify Colonel Freeman that I am going out to the studio for some fresh air, as per his instructions,’ Straker commented sarcastically, ‘and then I am going off duty. I will be in early tomorrow before leaving for Moonbase.’ Straker looked around the control room, checking the activity, then headed for his studio lift.

‘Miss Ealand, I have finished for the day. I will be on location for the next two days.’ Her boss informed her as he headed out of the building towards the studio lots. He walked briskly around the stages, inspecting the progress of the latest productions, chatting to producers and directors and even allowing himself to be fawned over by the publicity hungry, up and coming stars of the newest sci-fi series. All part of the job.

Late that night he locked the last of the paperwork away in his briefcase, and leaned back against the soft leather chair. It was quiet in the house; no sound of passing traffic disturbed the peace and there were no neighbours to be concerned about.

The building was as safe as SHADO security could make it; intruder alarms, proximity warnings, chemical and explosive sensors, bullet proof glass, panic room, separate fire-proof garage; all conspired to make it as safe as humanly possible, yet somehow even more vulnerable.

There were occasions when he felt too isolated and cut off from the real world, times when he would have relished the noise from a crowd of drunken revellers wandering home in the early hours, to confirm that he was a part of the world. Once he was inside this fortified prison he was totally alone.

Shaking his head at his own foolish thoughts he stood, crossed to the grand piano, one of his few pleasures, brushing his hands delicately across the slightly dusty keys. He had made his decision regarding the replacement for Claybourne. It would not go down well and he expected opposition to the appointment, but his mind was made up. He flexed his fingers and began to play.

The Lunar shuttle landed at Moonbase without incident. Colonel Grey completed the post flight checks, powering down computers and tracking systems.

‘Ready to disembark Commander?’ he smiled at his companion seated in the co-pilot’s seat. Straker looked tired, and, unusually for the Commander of SHADO, had left the piloting of the shuttle completely to Colonel Grey.

‘Ready as I’ll ever be John. Good flight by the way.’ Straker unfastened his seat harness and eased out of the craft. He unlocked the small cargo locker and removed his flight bag and a metal container.

The two men entered the arrival suite where they stripped and showered under fresh smelling decontaminant sprays. Straker, once he had dressed in Moonbase pre-flight coveralls, briskly rubbed his hair dry before heading for the Recreation hub where Mark Bradley was waiting to greet them.

‘Commander Straker, good to see you sir, and Colonel Grey. If you will come this way Commander, Colonel Ellis has finalised your arrangements.’ The interceptor pilot led the way into the Control room at the centre of the Moonbase complex.

‘Commander Straker,’ Gay Ellis smiled at her visitor as he entered the central complex, ‘glad you could spare the time for a visit. It’s been too long since you last came here. I understand this isn’t an inspection either!’ her tone was cheerful and relaxed, but she had spoken to Straker the evening before and was fully aware of the reasons for his trip out to the lunar station.

‘It’s good to be here Gay.’ Straker smiled sadly back at her. ‘I understand you have things ready for me?’ He indicated the small, unadorned box that he carried.

‘Ah yes, everything’s in place, just say when you want to go Commander. Orbital shuttle 4 has been prepared for you.’ The Moonbase Colonel looked at Straker, sympathy in her eyes. ‘Are you going alone, or is there someone you would like to accompany you?’

‘This will be a solo trip, Gay.’ the SHADO commander said quietly. ‘I have my flight details here for your approval. I plan to launch in just under 5 hours, plenty of time to catch up with everything that’s been going on here, and get some coffee.’ He handed her the slim file then headed for Central Park to meet the Interceptor pilots who were on duty at that time.

Several hours later Colonel Ellis stood in the Control hub as Straker left to prepare for his last act of friendship for Peter Claybourne. She continued monitoring communications from her commanding officer until he reported in at the end of his mission. ‘Orbital Shuttle to Moonbase Control. Mission accomplished. Returning to base. ETA 20 minutes.’

The flight had gone without a problem and Straker had computed a trajectory that would ensure that the simple steel container would fulfil Pete’s request. It had been a relatively simple task to enclose the urn containing Claybourne’s ashes in a missile casing, program its onboard computer and then launch the missile at the correct point in space and time.

Straker had watched the sparkling cylinder accelerate out of the orbit of the Moon. He had said a silent prayer for the soul of Peter Claybourne, and then had piloted the Orbital Shuttle back to Moonbase. The entire trip had taken rather longer than Straker had anticipated and he was tired when he finally brought the orbital shuttle to a smooth touchdown on the launch pad. Colonel Ellis was waiting for the Commander when he returned to Moonbase. He looked drawn and exhausted and she helped him remove his spacesuit and brought him a coffee. He was very quiet.

‘Sir,’ Gay interrupted his thoughts, ’I just want to say how much l appreciate what you have done today. I’m sure that everyone in SHADO feels the same way.’

‘Not really Gay. Not many of them know about today’s little excursion and I would rather it stayed like that if you don’t mind. I think I will go and get some rest now before the flight back.’ Ed got up wearily and headed for the accommodation dome, and his allocated cubicle.

The tiny mirror above the wash basin reflected the face of a man who seemed a lot older than thirty nine. His eyes were strained and it was an effort to keep them open. He lay down on the single air- mattress and waited for sleep to come. He hoped the nightmares would not come as well. Craig Collins still haunted him and he had a feeling that this night, Craig would be joined by Peter Claybourne.

**Chapter 3** ****

The SHADO Control room was generally quiet in the early hours of the morning. With the night roster getting ready to finish their shift, and the overlapping early shift preparing to take over, no-one had time, or opportunity, for idle chat. Those who wanted to catch up with gossip went to the Staff Lounge where Lt Colonel Philips, Security Section night controller, was currently sitting, feet up, on a sofa. As the latest member of the Security team and recent addition to the SHADO HQ, Rachel Philips was still assigned to Base accommodation and spent much of her brief off duty hours in the Staff Lounge, watching multi-channel news reports or simply relaxing. The base accommodation rooms were too small to allow much in the way of personal items, but the Lounge had leisure facilities for all staff to use.

Rachel had never been a fan of playing pool or watching DVDs and preferred to read. Unfortunately the staff lounge was not equipped with a library, so she tended to spend her time there simply relaxing and catching up on news or reading the most recent papers into such riveting topics as the latest developments in industrial sabotage. The latter however, had a tendency to send her to sleep. She preferred reading Fantasy and Sci-Fi, but she would never openly admit this to any of her colleagues.

She was happily involved in clearing a backlog of texts from her mobile, and sipping a mug of chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon, when she was interrupted.

‘Lt Colonel Philips to Commander Straker’s office immediately, I repeat, Lt Colonel Philips to Commander Straker’s office immediately.’ Lt Ford’s voice broke through the quiet music playing in the background.

‘Shit!’ Rachel Philips dropped her phone as chocolate splashed over her off-duty sweatshirt and jeans. ‘Straker’s office? Now?’

She had only met Straker face-to-face once, when she had transferred to Britain from the SHADO division in Norway. Even then he had seemed cold and emotionally detached. Oh yes, they said that he personally approved every candidate for selection and that he oversaw all the training and transfers, but in the four months she been working here Philips had not spoken directly to him once. She had heard a lot about him though. And she knew that the Commander would not tolerate tardiness. Chocolate stain, or no chocolate stain, Rachel Philips decided that she had better get a move on.

As she approached the office door it opened as if in anticipation. Straker, sitting behind the desk had his head bent over a detailed blueprint, pen in hand. He made an annotation on one of the designs, and then looked up at her for a second, before returning his gaze to the drawing on the desk.

‘Sit down, Colonel Philips.’ he ordered. ‘please.’ added almost as a casual afterthought.

She sat.

And waited.

Straker’s head bent over the paper once more. He did not even glance up as his intercom buzzed, just flicked the switch. ‘Straker.’

‘General McCullough wants to meet with you this afternoon to discuss the agenda for the JCS meeting next month, sir.’ Miss Ealand’s voice broke the silence in the office.

‘Tell him I can see him tomorrow at 14.00 hours in the studio, Miss Ealand.’ Straker cut the connection without a further word and went back to studying the blueprint. Picking up a ruler, he carefully measured a line on the drawing and made another annotation, then, without taking his eyes from the map asked,

‘Colonel Philips, can you give me a reason why I should not offer you the post of Security Chief?’

The question was so unexpected, so blunt, that she was taken aback. ‘I’m sorry sir? I don’t understand.’ she was surprised that she managed to speak without stammering.

He looked up at her. ‘Yes you do. I asked you a perfectly simple question. Can you think of any reason why you should not replace Peter Claybourne. I would like a response.’ His voice was curt and sharp, his vivid blue eyes looking deep into hers.

‘Well, sir, there must be others more deserving of promotion.’ she answered hesitantly.

‘Answer the question Colonel. Stop trying to prevaricate. You. Any reason why not? In other words are you up to the task?’ the cold, dismissive voice cut through the silence in the room.

She was angry that he felt he could speak to her like this, could treat her with such seemingly undisguised contempt. He wanted her to admit that she was not capable of doing the job, so he could justify putting one of the ‘old boys’ in the post of Security Chief.

No way was she going to let that happen. She had seen enough of what went on in the Security section. Colonel Claybourne had been soft with his department and as a result the whole section was riddled with idle, incompetent operatives who took short cuts, fudged reports and put lives at risk as well as compromising the entire security of SHADO.

She stood up, ramrod straight, almost at attention, despite her chocolate-stained appearance.

‘I consider that I am perfectly capable of replacing Colonel Claybourne as head of the Security Section. Sir.’ she retorted sharply before sitting again, hands clasped tightly together.

The azure eyes looked into hers, and he gave her a cold, emotionless smile. ‘Very good Colonel, you start immediately. I need to see your initial appraisal of the Security Department within twenty-four hours, detailing your recommendations. Your promotion to full Colonel takes effect from midnight tonight.’ He paused, considering, and looked closely at her. ‘I will see you in the Control room in....’ he looked at his watch, ‘ten minutes.’ Pressing the switch on his control panel, the office door slid open and he returned his attention to the paperwork on his desk.

Rachel Philips sat in stunned silence for a moment. The man behind the desk looked up at her with a puzzled expression. ‘Is there a problem Colonel Philips?’

‘Um no sir, thank you.’ Colonel Philips stood up hastily and headed for the open door; a dry, cool, and seemingly amused, voice stopping her in her tracks.

‘Ten minutes.’ he reminded her. The door slid shut. She did not see the smile that lit up his face as he watched her leave in silence. Sometimes it was quite entertaining having a reputation as an ice-cold, calculating machine. He picked up her personnel profile, hidden beneath the blueprint, and although he was utterly familiar with her record, read through it once more.

Rachel Philips, born March 1978, Degree in Psychology (First) and Masters in Global Security and Intelligence. Worked for MI5 Section 11 until recruited by SHADO two years ago. Transferred from the small Oslo section to HQ after completing her initial assignment. Straker himself had fast-tracked her for advancement in the organisation after seeing her psyche evaluations and the assessments of her abilities. He knew that she was the right person for the job; the next few weeks were going to be interesting as she established herself as the new Chief. He smiled to himself as he watched her on the monitor, outside his office, still recovering from the unexpected turn of events.

‘What the hell?’ she thought, standing in the corridor. Bewildered, she headed for the security department only to be intercepted by Colonel Freeman, almost as if he had been lying in wait for her. ’Congratulations Rachel, I think you will do a great job. You know where I am if you need any help.’

‘Actually Colonel Freeman, the Commander wants to see me in the Control room in 10 minutes. Any idea why?’ Philips asked the older man.

‘Rachel.’ Alec sighed patiently, and smiled down at her, ‘he’s giving you time before he confirms you as Claybourne’s replacement. Go and get out of those clothes and into uniform. And don’t worry, Straker wants you to succeed. He wouldn’t have given you those 10 minutes otherwise.’ Colonel Freeman beamed at her with his wide, sensuous smile that touched every part of his face. He was very fond of Rachel and had watched her progress over the last months with interest.

Alec Freeman liked his women tall, elegant and well-groomed. Rachel could only be described as petite; reaching only 5 ft 4 in at her highest, with long black hair which was usually fastened up in a loose knot on top of her head, sometimes with a chopstick, occasionally with a pencil or biro. She was not renowned for neatness or organisation in personal life, but, and Alec was the first to admit, her security skills were recognised to be outstanding. This girl was smart, intelligent, adaptable and above all committed to her work. Freeman had high hopes for her, and it was clear that Straker had ambitions for her as well.

Precisely ten minutes later in the Control Room, Colonel Rachel Philips, smartly attired in clean, immaculately pressed SHADO uniform, sleek raven hair precisely pinned into a chignon, deep brown eyes gleaming with pride, stated her name, rank and number for the computer that recorded her promotion to Security Chief. Commander Straker, standing behind her, confirmed the appointment and handed her a new identity card.

‘Congratulations Colonel.’ Was that a slight smile of amusement on Straker’s lips? Surely not. But you could never tell with the big boss. He had a reputation of being an enigmatic character with hidden depths that no one had been able to plumb. But for all his unapproachable exterior he was a brilliant astrophysicist and strategist, able to outwit the aliens in every encounter.

The operatives, watching from the computers and display boards around the room gave a quick round of applause as the computer authenticated her new rank.

‘Colonel Philips, you have a considerable number of duties to attend to. I suggest you make a start.’ Straker walked back into his office and picked up the latest batch of reports to be read and approved.

**Chapter 4** ****

Rachel leaned back in her chair and mentally reviewed the last two weeks. It had been difficult settling in to the post; Peter Claybourne had been an easy man to work for, too easy. He had run the section for the benefit of his team and as a result she had inherited a department which was sloppy and badly organised. The operatives resented her promotion and made it quite clear that they would oppose her at every opportunity. In fact she had had to quickly transfer some operatives out of HQ to other, less demanding, placements in smaller centres as well as bringing in new members to fill the vacancies. She had instigated some developments, particularly with regard to security in the base, and had plans for improving protection for the most important members of SHADO’s cadre.

Her new Lt, Michael Jenson, had argued against most of her changes, but Colonel Philips was adamant that her decision in each matter was final. She was beginning to have some doubts about having promoted Jenson to the post of Second in Charge, but he had been the only viable option at the time. He managed to avoid her as often as possible, which was not difficult, as they were generally rostered on opposite shifts, but Rachel knew that in the near future she would have to deal with him as well. It was not something that she was looking forward to doing. There was something about him that spooked her. His eyes were soulless and flat. Still, he knew his job and seemed to be reasonably competent.

In the meantime she had given him the task of investigating the recent threat that had appeared at the studio. It was a relatively easy assignment, and one that would allow her to evaluate his abilities, as well as providing her with the opportunity to get to grips with the continued re-organising of her department.

Now she had a formal meeting with the SHADO commander to update him on the progress she was making. She picked up the folder containing her reports and approached his office with some trepidation. The door was open, Straker studying the lunar map on one wall.

‘Ah, Colonel Philips, come in and take a seat. First of all, fill me in on how things have been going in your department.’ he smiled at her and relaxed in his leather chair behind the desk. She started hesitantly to explain what she had been doing since her appointment, and soon realised that he was listening attentively and with genuine interest. He commented encouragingly on her progress and asked her what she intended doing next in the security department.

Diffidently, she handed him her report detailing her proposals to restructure the team. He reached across for it, his fingers brushing against hers, and sat back to scrutinize it. She watched him, studying his face as he concentrated on reading. A slight scar on his lower lip. A silvered crescent –shaped one above his left eyebrow. The sheen of soft ash blonde down on his sculptured cheekbone. The sparkle of close-cropped hair where it caught the light. The lines of tiredness at the corner of his intensely blue eyes. The slight pulse in the throat where it met the high collar of his jacket.

He glanced up at her and instantly she felt as though she had been caught red-handed. Her ears pounded and it was as if something was holding her tightly, preventing her from breathing. Then her mind cleared as he looked down at the paper again.

She looked away, confused, embarrassed. So, it has happened, she thought. I never intended this, not for him. She turned back to watch, conscious of his every move. Strong fingers, devoid of jewellery, turning pages. Neatly manicured, but masculine, nails. The slow even breaths as he studied her work. The aura of calm certainty, competence and confidence that surrounded him. She was acutely aware of his forceful presence that seemed to fill the room.

He put the papers down, interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on his hands. .

‘Very impressive Colonel. I see that you have justified my decision to appoint you. I am also aware that it has been, and will probably continue to be, an unpopular decision amongst some of the security team, though you seem to be coping with that.’ The brilliant eyes gazed into hers and she nearly flinched. ‘I notice that you want to update the security at the senior officers’ residences. You have my authorization for that. However I would be grateful if you could do it with the minimum of intrusion. Your other proposals are also approved and authorised. Just keep me updated on the progress.’

‘Yes sir. I’ll do the security upgrades when staff are on duty or off world.’ she replied, relieved that the meeting had gone so well. She went back to her own office which seemed incredibly small and cramped after the Commander’s spacious room, and sat there, quietly, thinking over what had happened to her. She was well aware that Straker was regarded as the ultimate catch by most of the female operatives. She had overheard conversations in the Staff Lounge, but always considered herself above such trivial matters. Yes, she admired the man, but as her commanding officer, not as a potential conquest. And now, well, the mere thought of him made her heart race. Stupid girl, she told herself. Get real. He hardly knows you exist.

She took a deep, steadying breath and opened her appointments program. Hard work would soon settle her thoughts and she began timetabling her visits to the various Colonels’ properties, as well as Straker’s. Colonel Freeman’s would be the first.

************************************

She was somewhat amused at Alec’s bachelor pad, with its luxurious shower, kitchen simply and sparsely fitted, with little evidence of use, and the large, luxurious bedroom complete with king size bed. Situated in a development of apartments in a large Victorian mansion, it perfectly suited his relaxed and casual lifestyle. The living area was a bachelor’s dream, including personal cinema system, reclining sofas and top of the range music system.

Fosters flat, in an ultra- modern development, all sharp steel and glass, was similar in size, although she preferred the more restrained, and tasteful, decoration in Colonel Freeman’s apartment. She was, however, intrigued by the prominent photographs of Foster, with assorted film starlets in arm, which were displayed around the rooms. She had not had much contact with the Colonel since arriving at SHADO HQ, involved as he was, in the setting up of the new Tasmania dockyard. She decided that she was not missing much considering his taste in women and his obvious high opinion of himself.

Straker’s house however, was a revelation. At the end of a private lane it was isolated and hidden away with a discrete, but extremely efficient, security system and a concealed guard house for the use of security, on those rare occasions when he deigned to have them. That was something else she was going to change as well. Straker would eventually have a protection detail whether he liked it or not. SHADO needed him alive, and he was, all too often, the target of alien attacks.

It was not just aliens that she had to contend with. It was becoming clear that some humans, possibly tempted by promises of power, or wealth, or protection, had sided with the enemy, and were actively involved in bringing SHADO’s operations to an untimely end. If Straker was eliminated, SHADO would suffer its worst loss, and might never recover. She was well aware that the Commander would vigorously object to her plans for a permanent protection detail, but she was determined to have her own way eventually. It was ridiculous that he was allowed to wander about unprotected and unguarded, when POTUS for example had more secret agents than SHADO had senior staff.

She opened the front door to Straker’s house and secured the alarm system. It was an old farmhouse,, not particularly large, but more than spacious enough for one two people. Downstairs there was a wide hallway with doors leading off; to a small internal guard post, to a downstairs cloakroom, another to a small storage room with steel gun cabinet, complete with concealed door to the almost obligatory panic room. She did not feel it necessary to inspect it. According to security records, it had never been used anyway. She knew that Straker suffered seriously from claustrophobia, and she was positive that being locked in this undersized room, which was little more than a walk-in safe, would not have been his preferred option in the event of attack.

The single door on the right opened to a generous L shaped, open-plan living room with a large kitchen at the end. A spacious room with high ceiling and well- proportioned windows, the living area took up most of the ground floor.

A wide staircase led from the hall up to the first floor, with two bedrooms, each with its own en-suite, and a further bathroom. The larger master bedroom also had a dressing room, through which a concealed auxiliary office, linked to SHADO’s main complex, was accessed. The original, off-set, entrance had been replaced with an expanse of glass panels in oak frames, into which the main door had been set. The glass, bullet-proof for security, was bisected horizontally at the first floor level by a wide mezzanine which overlooked the hallway below. It was a thoughtful design, utilising the best of the original structure but still providing a secure and yet aesthetically pleasing residence.

She fully expected to find the interior of his home similar to Colonel Freeman’s. After all, Straker was a bachelor, and, as the Executive Producer of a highly successful international film company, had a certain image to project, but his house was minimally furnished with considerable attention to detail. An eclectic range of books and CD‘s filled bookcases, modern works of art decorated the walls, and several small, beautiful sculptures were displayed. The bathrooms and bedrooms were similar; stylish, contemporary but, above all, well-designed and functional. She was not surprised to find the kitchen was extensively equipped.

The one surprise was the grand piano in the lounge... Well, well, she would never have thought that her stern, dispassionate Commander was a pianist. She wondered how proficient he actually was. Pretty talented, if the well-annotated manuscripts on top were anything to go by. She quickly finished updating her security details into his system and left, uncomfortably aware that she was intruding into the personal, hidden life of a man who greatly valued his privacy. She longed to spend more time there, but it would have been a betrayal of his trust in her. She had to disregard how she felt about him and get on with the job.

And now she was confident that she had completed all the urgent changes that needed to be made; she had put into place the necessary modifications to the security systems to improve efficiency and she had managed to stay on the right side of Commander Straker. She was more pleased about the final fact than everything else she had achieved.

**Chapter 5**

It made the evening news headlines. A photograph, complete with caption, of Harlington Straker’s executive producer meeting with General Peter Bradley, head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The snapshot showed other extremely highly ranked members of the armed services from across the world in the background. A film producer meeting an USAF General? The caption ‘What do these man have in common?’ had editors searching their files to get further information on this reclusive American film executive. And the following morning it was headlines in the trashier tabloids, and even reported in the broadsheets.

Straker was livid.

He had run the gauntlet of inquisitive press reports and photographers as he had driven into work very early in the morning but fortunately they had not been able to find out where he lived. Yet. He spoke to Lt. Col. Jenson and reluctantly arranged to have the security at his house upgraded to Level 3 by the evening.

‘No comment.’ his only answer to the insistent media hounds. Studio security had removed the press from the grounds of the complex, but they were powerless to stop the media from delving deep into Straker’s past history. The SHADO PR team had already swung into action and produced a smokescreen report to explain the meeting, but it was still infuriatingly disruptive.

On arrival at HQ he was about to interrupt Colonel Philip’s rest day when his plans were interrupted by Moonbase calling an Alert. He put the newspapers aside, to deal with later, and went to co-ordinate the response to the newest attack.

Rachel woke late and revelled in the knowledge that today was her rest day. No work, just a chance to relax. She switched on the television to catch up on events before she had to get up.

‘Shit.’ The last item on the morning news showed the photograph of Straker and the General. She was out of bed and in the shower before the newsreader had finished the brief report.

Entering the control room it was clear that the base was in the midst of a Red Alert. Straker was in full Command mode, monitoring every communication, giving instructions to the Moonbases and Skydivers, his eidetic memory enabling him to recall perfectly the location and capabilities of each SHADO defence system. She watched in awe as he ordered Sky 5 to a precise interception point, exactly where the UFO entered Earth’s atmosphere some ten minutes later. How the hell did he do that, she wondered to herself. She was still engrossed in watching the final moments of the mission when he turned round and noticed her presence.

‘How did the media get that photograph, Colonel?’ Straker demanded angrily. ‘You are supposed to be in charge of security. Find the answer and deal with it. I want it sorted by tonight.’ He turned back to the monitors as if she no longer existed and ordered Skydiver to search the ocean for wreckage.

Colonel Philips scrutinised the offending photograph carefully. She had set up security at the meeting; Class A protocols, all principals covered by SHADO operatives, no unauthorised personnel within 200 yards, air surveillance, everything. She took another look. It was detailed and sharp. The lines were crisp, the features of both men clearly delineated. This was an inside job. Someone within the security perimeter had taken this photograph. The question was, who and why? She called up the footage from the air surveillance team and prepared for a long session. She sipped her hot sweet chocolate and nibbled on a cinnamon Danish she had grabbed from the cafeteria while waiting for the tapes to arrive. Crumbs sprinkled onto the desk and she reached out ............

........an ear-piercing klaxon shattered the quietness and she instinctively put her hands over her ears to deaden the horrendous sound. It stopped as suddenly as it had started, but then the intercom activated.

‘This is SHADO Control. All Sectors. This is an Excalibur alert. Evacuate all Areas. Evacuate all Areas. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill. Evacuate all areas immediately.’ Controlled and calm, Straker’s voice echoed through the underground complex. Rachel’s chair clattered on the floor as she pushed it away and ran from her office to the central hub. Hurrying past the operatives who were quickly but calmly heading for the emergency exits, she entered the nearly deserted control room. Straker remained there, tense and vigilant, monitoring the evacuation on the computer readouts.

She hurried up to him. ‘Commander, what’s happened?’ her voice was quiet but composed.

‘Bomb alert, Colonel Philips. Picked up by the sensors. Somewhere in this immediate area. Disposal are on the way. You need to leave now.’

‘So do you sir.’

‘I don’t leave Colonel. I need to supervise the evacuation and ensure the security of this. ....’

‘With respect sir, that is my job. I am Chief of Security. You are Commander in Chief and you need to be in a position to command. You cannot do that if you are not alive. Please leave. I will start the search and assist the bomb team. You must go to Auxiliary Control and begin transferring operations there. I will keep you updated on events here. Now. Go. Please.’ she spoke in a voice that brooked no argument and he looked at her, considering, his head tilted to one side for a moment, before abruptly turning on his heel and heading for the nearest emergency exit.

She pulled the electronic data from the micro-chemical sensors that had sounded the alarm. The sensors that she had insisted on having incorporated into the building’s internal defence mechanisms just last week. They had been expensive, and she had expected Straker to object, but he had signed the approval form without comment or hesitation.

A quick analysis of the data revealed that the explosive device comprised military Pentolite, an extremely effective explosive. There was no point in worrying from where it had originated. She had to find out where it was now, before it detonated. From her scrutiny of the chemical composition, there could be enough explosive to obliterate the central hub of the complex, if placed correctly.

Where was it? The monitors confirmed that HQ was now safely evacuated and she could hear the bomb disposal team arriving through the empty staff access corridor from Studio Lot 4. She started to search.

Nothing out of place in the control room. She moved on, as the disposal team arrived and joined her. Straker’s office was next. And there. On the conference table. A perfectly normal laptop, except she had never seen this particular model before. All SHADO IT equipment was checked and certified by the Chief of Security to ensure compliance with cyber security, and this laptop was unfamiliar. Besides, Straker would never have allowed anyone to leave it in his office. He was fanatical about security protocols and the need to maintain strict precautions inside the building.

‘In here. On the table.’ she called to the disposal team, stepping out of the way as they entered. They settled to work, efficiently, quietly and with intense concentration, ignoring her totally. She left them to their task and went to call Straker. She noticed dispassionately that her hands were shaking as she made contact with the Auxiliary Command Centre.

‘Colonel. Good to hear from you. Have you found it?’ he sounded inordinately relieved to see her face in the screen.

‘Yes sir, the bomb team are working on it now.’ She looked behind her as one of the team members came out of the office, removing his heavy helmet and gauntlets. He moved slowly towards her, handicapped by his heavy protective garb, and leaned across to speak to the Commander.

‘We’ve made the bomb safe sir. Quite a simple device. No boobytraps. We are taking it to Forensics for analysis. HQ will be operational in ten minutes.’

‘Good work Lt. Please thank your team from me. I’ll meet you in the Forensics unit shortly.’ Straker cut the connection.

Rachel arrived at the Forensic Department before the Commander and was watching as the scientists slowly dismantled the crude, and relatively simple, device. She was engrossed in recording the details of the bomb when Straker appeared, moving quickly yet soundlessly. His face was grim as he studied the now dismantled laptop and its deadly contents.

‘Where did you find it, Colonel?’ he queried.

‘It was in your office sir. I don’t know how long it had been there, almost certainly for no longer than a few minutes. The sensors are very delicate and would have been activated within two to four minutes of the laptop being put in place. It depends on the size of the explosives and how close the nearest sensor was. I can’t be more specific than that I’m afraid’ she apologized.

‘I had been out of my office for at least 30 minutes when the alarm went off’ he muttered thoughtfully. ‘We need to see security tapes of that time. Can I leave that with you? I really need to get things in order in Control and then I will, unfortunately, have to contact General Henderson.’ He smiled ruefully at the notion of explaining to the IAC president what had transpired. Henderson was still fuming about the media acquiring the compromising photograph and would not be pleased with this latest incident.

‘Of course sir. I will report to you as soon as I have any information.’ She turned back to watch the examination of the remains.

‘By the way, Colonel,’ he commented, ‘I was a little dubious about updating the sensor systems, but their usefulness has been proven.’ He smiled down at her, and she noticed as if for the first time that he was considerably taller than her. It had never seemed important before. Her mind betrayed her with a surge of remembered emotions that she thought she had buried.

‘Colonel?’ he was still smiling down at her but in a somewhat bemused manner, ‘are you alright?’

‘Sorry, sorry, I was just.....’ she blushed, thinking rapidly , ‘wondering about getting a coffee before I set to work. I really need some caffeine!’ she laughed in an attempt to defuse the situation. Surely he must have noticed her response. It was clear that he had no time for distractions outside SHADO. His job was his life and she knew that it had cost him dearly in the past.

There was no point in senseless yearnings. She was simply wasting time and emotional energy. She had a job to do and she intended doing her very best. She could dream, but that was as far as it would go. Unfortunately.

**Chapter 6**

Straker leaned wearily against the wall in the control room and tried to focus on the consoles and systems. Thankfully all stations were now reporting Situation Green after more hours than he cared to think about battling the latest alien assaults. Finally he could go and get some rest. Yawning almost uncontrollably he stepped into his office, reached for his briefcase and began to put the day’s unfinished paperwork inside.

It had been a difficult few days with no senior command staff to support the running of the HQ. Freeman was still in Barrow, assessing the base prior to commissioning a new Skydiver. Hopefully he would be back in London shortly, but until then Straker had sole responsibility for the running of HQ and he was beginning to feel the strain. He had been in the base for well over 24 hours and had not had a break. Moonbase had confirmed that there were no further UFOs in the range of their sensors. That should give him at least 6 hours to get some much needed sleep.

‘I’m going home for a few hours Captain Ford.’ Straker’s eyes were dulled with tiredness. ‘Contact me immediately if there are any problems.’

‘Yes sir,’ Ford was pleased to see the Commander about to leave. Ford himself had been on duty for the past 12 hours and was beginning to feel pretty worn out so he appreciated just how exhausted Straker must be. ‘Would you like me to arrange a driver for you?’

‘No thanks, Keith, I’ll be fine.’ The SHADO boss, ashen with fatigue, stepped out of the control room and collected his car from the main portico of the Harlington Straker Studio complex. There was a full moon in the night sky, casting cobalt shadows across the studio complex. He had not realised that it was the middle of the night; one of the problems in working erratic hours in the underground complex was that you soon lost track of time in the real world.

He drove cautiously, knowing full well that, tired as he was, his reflexes were not at their best, and it was with a sense of some relief that he arrived back at his residence, some twenty minutes later. He never thought of it as his home. Home was where your family lived, and Straker had no family, now that his son was dead.

It was a memory that he tried to keep suppressed, bringing with it each time pain, loneliness and the terrible anguish at the loss of a child. Emotions that he needed to control and restrain if he was to be an effective commander. The only tangible reminder that he had of John, was a photograph, on the table by his bedside; but in reality John was never far away from him, he was there in his thoughts constantly.

There was no obvious movement from the adjacent guard house, which was a relief. He hated being watched over as if he was a delinquent child, unable to go anywhere or do anything without someone there, behind him, or in front, watching, anticipating his every move. It was a relief being free to drive himself to work, to have privacy in his house, to be able to do what he wanted without having to account for every move.

The house was dark, cool and quiet. He put his briefcase down, stripping off his jacket and shoulder holster, thankful to be free of its encumbrance. The jacket, slung over the banister, the shoulder holster in its proper place in the weapons storage room. He slipped his Glock, instinctively, into the waistband at his back and walked through to the kitchen area. Opening the fridge he picked up a bottle of chilled water, drinking it as he headed through the lounge and upstairs to the relative peace and stillness of his bedroom.

He made his way, in the darkness, around the room, and sat on the edge of the bed, sliding the Glock under his pillow. Stepping across to the adjoining bathroom he noticed that the guard house was still unlit. He recalled asking Jenson about setting up a protection detail. Something was not right. Should he contact HQ? There should have been at least two guards on duty outside the house and one inside. He had been a fool to enter the house without checking. Perhaps there had been a problem with staffing; still, he should have been informed.

Back in the bedroom he picked up his mobile and speed-dialled HQ. There was no tone. He was beginning to get concerned. The land line, too, was dead. This was definitely not good. Collecting his pistol he headed quietly, gun in hand, to the top of the staircase, listening intently for any sound. With the mobile network and landlines disabled he was effectively cut off and isolated. For one brief moment he considered going into the panic room, but once in there he would be trapped and there was still no guarantee that he would be able to make contact. HQ would have sent a squad if the house alarm had been activated or they suspected something was amiss. He was on his own.

He needed to get out.

Quickly.

Treading lightly he crept downstairs. The key for his car was on the table. He picked it up, slipping it into his pocket, shifted his grip on the pistol, and prepared to move from the shadowed safety of the stairs into the moonlit space in front of the door. He heard a vehicle coming up the long gravel driveway from the main road. Pausing, he took a deep breath, just three more paces to the front door, his hand outstretched ready to grasped the release mechanism then..........

Colonel Philips studied the print out from the aerial surveillance team. She could do little investigation into the bomb until the scientists had finished their work and so had decided to concentrate on finding out who had been responsible for the snapshot of Straker and the General.

Hmm, she mused, good name for a rock band ‘Straker and the General’. She must remember that! Giggling quietly she advanced the film until it showed the overhead view of the two men shaking hands. There. That figure in the corner, partly hidden by the shadow of the building. The photo could only have been taken from that position. So, who was it?

It was hard to get a clear look at the face, but it was a man, and he was inside the security cordon, therefore someone known to SHADO. She reached for the Operation Planning document. It should be possible to check who it was by where they were positioned. Thank heavens she kept scrupulous documentation of each action she planned.

And yes, there was no doubt. And yet surely that was not correct. Jenson?

‘Lt. Jenson to Security division immediately, Lt Jenson to Security please.’ she requested, only to have a reply from Captain Ford.

‘Colonel Philips, Lt Jenson left HQ ninety minutes ago. He was going to Commander Straker’s house to check on the security you requested. He has not returned to HQ as far as we are aware.’

She felt a cold chill rush through her. She had not asked anyone to go to the Commander’s house, in fact she knew nothing about upgrading any security. Even if Jenson had been out to the house, he should have been back by now, and there was no record of his movements.

Jenson had been out to Straker’s house and he had been the one taking the picture. What else had he been doing? Dear God. Her mind raced ahead, imagining scenarios and possible outcomes. Had Jenson had anything to do with the bomb in Straker’s office? As a security member, he certainly had access to Pentolite. She called the Forensics department.

‘Any details on the bomb yet? Have we got a signature for the explosives?’ she spoke hurriedly, urgently and waited desperately for an answer.

‘Yes Colonel, the explosives had quite a definite signature and it was a simple task to trace the source.’ He began but she interrupted him .....

‘Just tell me where it came from.’

We can positively confirm that the explosive came from a batch stored here in the main armoury. According to the Armoury records, a amount larger than that contained in this device was requisitioned three days ago by Lt Jenson for use in the Research Department.’’ She listened in horrified silence, her worst fears confirmed.

‘Captain Ford, get me Commander Straker immediately please.’ she spoke calmly even though she was close to panic.

‘I’m sorry Colonel, but the Commander left ten minutes ago. He was very tired and was going home to get some sleep. Is it urgent?’ Ford queried.

‘Dammit, Ford, get him on the phone NOW.’ She was on the verge of screaming at him. Careful girl, she thought to herself. Don’t get hysterical.

Silence. She waited anxiously, hoping that she was over-reacting. Long moments elapsed while her thoughts grew more anxious.

Keith Ford’s voice broke the stillness. He sounded breathless and desperately worried. ‘Colonel, I’m unable to get through to any of the Commander’s mobiles or landlines. All transmissions are jammed. I have just instigated a Class A alert. I am also unable to verify the Commander’s physical status at present. The monitors seem to have been compromised, and the alarms and security systems are not functioning, although the board displays positive on all systems. Colonel, we have a serious problem.’

‘I’m leaving for his house now, Ford. Get a security team there as soon as possible. Find Lt Jenson and apprehend him with extreme force if necessary. Send a medivac team to Straker’s and tell Alec Freeman what’s happened. Get him back here with all possible speed.’ She cut the connection and ran to her car.

She had always enjoyed driving fast, but there was no time for pleasure now. She pushed the Golf to its limits, driving at speeds she would never normally have dared attempt. From her calculations Straker would have been alone in his house for several minutes, and if all electronic connections were dead, anything could have happened.

She saw the lane ahead, turned in and stopped some 100 yards away from the building. She reported in to Ford. ‘I’m at the house now. It’s in darkness but his car is outside. I’ll go the rest of the way on foot.’

As she opened her car door a brilliant flash of light illuminated the night sky, followed by the horrendous sound of explosives detonating. Her reaction was instinctive. She flung herself down, hands over her head and cowered, curled up, until the noise and the spattering of falling debris had diminished. Then, fearfully, she looked up.

Straker knew, as soon as he saw the radio transmitter concealed behind the frame of the door, that it was too late. Unforgivably, due in part to his tiredness and partly to complacency, he had initiated the countdown when he had entered the house. He saw, in the darkness of the empty hallway, the traitorous digits of the display counting down to zero. There was no time to do anything other than twist himself into the space under the stairs in a desperate attempt to avoid the worst of whatever was coming.

An explosion of noise and pressure surrounded him, hurling him sideways. His head impacted, hard, with the wall and he fell haphazardly, his body crumpled and twisted. Struggling to stay conscious, he could do little more than wait, as the house, its structure severely compromised, began to topple outwards.

Outside, on the main road, Michael Jenson, his eyes dead of emotion and feeling, watched from his car. The explosion had been a little more powerful than he had intended. However, Straker had set off the timing device when he entered and now, in all probability, he was dead.

Jenson recalled the look on Peter Claybourne’s face when he realised that the aliens had tricked him, just before they sliced him open and gutted him alive like a fish. Jenson had watched, terrified, restrained by the aliens and knowing that the same fate lay in store for him. He remembered losing consciousness briefly. Only the arrival of the rest of the security team had, apparently, saved him.

Straker was dead. Jenson felt a profound and inexplicable sense of relief. Maybe now he could rest. The overwhelming compulsion to eliminate the SHADO Commander was finally gone. Some deeply hidden part of Jenson’s psyche, which still retained the memories and awareness of his previous existence, had tried to assuage the irrational impulse by non violent means; a threatening letter, an incriminating photograph, an easily defused explosive, but the craving had intensified until he was no longer able to control his actions.

The dominating voices in his head had overridden his feeble attempts and he had not been able to ignore the growing malignancy. The Michael Jenson that was, had striven, in vain, to regain control of his own mind, but eventually the new Jenson, now governed by the aliens, had succeeded. It was finally over. He had a fulfilling sense of completion, of a task achieved, of an assignment well done. Straker was dead.

He rubbed his forehead and grimaced in pain. The damn headache had returned with a vengeance. He had had it since Pete died. The doc had put it down to stress and had prescribed the usual – painkillers and rest. They hadn’t worked. He could feel it now, drilling right inside his skull. He groaned with the increasing discomfort and squeezed his head tightly. It was then that the controlling implant, inserted behind his eye by the aliens while he was unconscious, self-destructed with a final excruciating blast of pain as his brain haemorrhaged catastrophically, blood bursting through his ruptured eardrums.

Colonel Philips stood, appalled as the old farm building started to disintegrate outwards in a chaotic, devastating heap. There was nothing she could do but watch in horror. Debris continued to blow around her and grit-filled tears blurred her eyes. Frozen with shock, she began to shake uncontrollably. Then, in the distance she heard the sirens of the SHADO medivac team arriving. The noise brought her to her senses and she ran towards the house.

**Chapter 7**

He was extremely uncomfortable. Something heavy and hard and painful was pinning him down. He was face down, one arm twisted under his chest, his hand and wrist cramped and throbbing. He didn’t seem able to move. Why was it so dark? His head hurt abominably and it was difficult to breathe. The air was full of dust and grit that clogged his throat. He couldn’t see. Where was the light? He could taste blood. He was cold, so very cold. He could hear nothing apart from a resonant hissing in his ears. And he could not move.

He could feel the panic beginning.

As Colonel Philips neared the damaged building she tried to calculate the damage. The main structure was partially intact, but most of the roof had collapsed. Fortunately, the walls had not imploded, but had fallen outwards away from the central core. The chimney stack had fallen, and the windows had disintegrated. Splintered shards of glass littered the surrounding area, and the air was filled with the detritus of the aftermath. It was impossible to decide where to start searching, or even if it was safe to search. Helplessly she contacted HQ and called for the rescue team to be sent to her location. Then all she could do was to be patient. The medivac team could do nothing to help.

She knew how inefficient, and potentially dangerous, it was when inexperienced bystanders tried to get involved in such a situation. Rachel knew her strengths, and organising a rescue in a collapsed building was not one of them. She busied herself by reporting in to HQ and giving the teams as much information as she could. They arrived faster than she had anticipated, and immediately focussed on the scene, ignoring her totally. She was not offended; they were the professionals and she was glad to leave them to it.

They set to work immediately with tracker devices, remote cameras and finely tuned sensors. quartering the ground and, after a seemingly interminable length of time, called her over.

‘We’ve pinpointed some promising sounds in this area.’ The team leader explained, showing her a rough 3D sketch map. ‘It’s going to be difficult to get in there; the remaining walls are still in danger of collapsing. Some of the joists are just balancing and so far we haven’t found a large enough space for any of us to crawl through. We know someone’s alive in there, but we simply can’t get to them yet. There’s a very narrow gap and we are trying to enlarge it but it will take time. We managed to get a remote camera through the tightest part of the passage and it leads to a larger space where we think he is, but as yet none of our team can fit down there even though it’s not very far. Only a matter of five yards or so at the most. Unfortunately whatever has been affecting transmissions seems to have done the same to the camera so we can’t say for certainhow much room there is down there.’

Rachel looked at the team leader. He was, like his crew, strong and muscular, used to lifting debris and carrying dead weights. She however was undersized and very slender. Their eyes met and it was clear that he was thinking along the same lines.

‘It could be very dangerous Colonel.’ he advised her.

‘I know,’ her voice was quiet but determined. ‘But, if it is the Commander in there, we need to get to him as soon as possible. Is there a chance I could get through?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Yes, but it would be very difficult even for you, and we don’t know what obstructions you might hit once you are past the first part. Are you sure you want to try?’

Yes. I have to.’ she said firmly. ‘Tell me what I need to do, and get me in there.’

Shortly after, kitted out in overalls, carrying a pack of basic rescue equipment and with a head torch lighting her path, she made her way over the wreckage to a space leading into the rubble. All she had to do was to follow the fibre optic cable. Easier said than done. It was dreadfully constricted and she struggled to make her way past outcrops of rubble without getting caught.

The pack, pushed in front of her, snagged continuously and initially she made little progress. She refused to drag it behind her as she would have been unable to reach it if it had become firmly trapped. Besides which, she had a dread of getting stuck fast in the passage way and being unable to wriggle backwards to safety. It was difficult to move more than a few inches without having to squirm around an obstruction. Skin scraped raw as she struggled on. She could hear wood creaking as it stressed under pressure, and ominous cracking sounds made her flinch, but she struggled on.

It seemed to take forever to get past the worst of the blockade but eventually she writhed through the narrowest section and could breathe more easily. At least here she could move her arms freely, instead of having to rely on dragging herself forward almost by her fingertips. She shifted the rucksack so that it was not obstructing her vision and pushed on, leaving smears of blood on broken bricks.

‘I’m through the worst part now and it seems clear ahead.’ she tried reporting in to the waiting team, her voice thick and hoarse with dust, but there was no response. The radio waves must also have been affected along with the phone connections. She was on her own.

He became aware that the silence was interspersed by strange noises; the residue of a shattered tile, falling in a clatter of orchestral notes; the trickling waterfall of small debris, rolling in gentle avalanches; a resonant clunk of a brick, dislodged by vibrations and tumbling onto broken wood. There seemed to be no other sounds. No voices, no one near to help. Breathe slowly, he told himself. Count each breath, keep calm, and keep counting. He tried desperately to control his panic, to keep the fear under control, but it was getting very difficult. If only he could see. He couldn’t even remember what had happened; just that he was trapped here, in the dark, alone.

Then, distantly, faintly, the sound of a voice, although he could not tell what was being said, and there, just there, was that a faint flash of light? He was too confused and dazed to be sure. He tried to call out, but the dust and grit caught in his throat and he struggled for breath, coughing desperately, trying to get air into his heaving lungs. In that moment of terror his mind betrayed him and he was back in the small underground pit, the soldiers laughing as he fought to breathe. He had been unable to move and the pain of his cramped and twisted limbs had made him scream in agony. But he had not given in. Name, rank, number. That was all they would get.

She was aware of choking, gasping breaths in the darkness close nearby.

‘Commander?’ she pleaded, desperate for his voice. ‘Commander Straker? Are you there? ‘ her voice echoed thinly through the small rubble-strewn space. She stopped, listening for any response.

Then faintly, a whispered response, ‘Straker. Edward. Major.’ She could have wept with relief although his response puzzled her.

‘Keep still Commander, I’m nearly there.’ and she crawled the last few tortuous feet across the accumulated shards of wreckage, the beam from the torch lighting up fragments of the scene.

The lower stairs had remained intact for the most part, although they were hidden under a mass of fallen joists and rubble. He had obviously sought refuge there and it had saved him from the worst of the damage, but she could see he was spattered with blood and dust. His eyes were closed and he was murmuring something to himself. Broken lengths of heavy, splintered timber had fallen across him, pinning his body to the ground.

It seemed an eternity before she reached his refuge, her hands and knees skinned raw. Carefully she moved the pieces of wreckage off his body. He groaned with relief as the weight was released.

‘Don’t move. I know it hurts but you must stay still. You could have broken bones and it will make it worse if you try to move.’ she ordered him, hoping that he was able to understand her. She dreaded what would happen if he suddenly tried to get up or to roll over.

Cautiously she squeezed next to him, dragging the pack next to her and fumbling at the straps with her scuffed, painful fingers. She touched his face. Deep and unpleasant bruises were beginning to distort his features. Small cuts from flying glass and debris marked bare flesh, oozing blood onto his shirt and the scuffed surface of polished wooden floor on which he was lying. His eyes were shut, pale lashes heavy with grit, and tears, and she carefully wiped them free of dirt. They remained closed. His skin was cold and clammy and he was shivering. She pulled out an emergency blanket and wrapped it around him, tucking it in to help retain some body heat. He seemed unaware of her presence and continued murmuring to himself in a low monotone.

‘Name, rank..Nothing else ...Name, rank........’ he sounded feverish and confused.

‘Commander, can you hear me? Commander? Ed?’ It was no use. She didn’t know what she could do to help him wake up from the nightmare he was experiencing. Painstakingly she ran her hands over his body to feel for damage. All seemed okay, thank heavens, but she was not experienced enough to be able to tell if there had been any spinal injury. That would have to wait until the rescue team reached them. He was still incoherent, and she huddled closer, wrapping an arm over him in an attempt to reach through to his awareness and to prevent him from moving. Even now, semi-conscious and rambling as he was, she could sense his strength of character, his presence, that made him the outstanding leader that he was. It seemed wrong somehow, that she could be here, in this situation, helping him. As if their roles had been reversed.

‘Hang on Commander,’ she said softly, ‘you’re safe now.’ She lay there, listening, hoping, praying that the rescue team would reach them soon. Her hand reached out grasping his, and she felt his bloodied fingers tighten on hers. ‘It’s okay, I’m here,’ she murmured, as he lifted his head to try to turn towards her. ‘Keep still for now.’ she reiterated.

He cried out sharply in distress, but remained still, his hand still clasping hers. ‘What happened?’ his voice though tremulous with pain and fear, was once more lucid.

She shifted slightly to ease the discomfort of lying curled up on the rubble-strewn floor, and quickly recounted the events since he had left HQ. ‘The rescue team are working to clear a path through to us now.’ she explained, ‘and then we can get you out of here. It may take some time though. Are you in pain because there is morphine here if you need it?’

‘No, okay, not too bad.’ he gasped breathlessly, ‘worst part; being trapped.’ He hated admitting his weakness, the overriding terror of being confined, and the inability to remain in control of his emotions when locked in a small space. ‘Claustrophobia. Doesn’t make it easy.’

He gave a brief, ironic laugh, then started to choke again. It was difficult to lift his head away from the floor and eventually he gave up and lay there, ashen hair mingled with plaster remnants and dirt. Dust motes sparkled in the torchlight as they spun in the disturbed air and the silver frame of his watch refracted light into the surrounding dimness. She felt helpless, unable to do more than simply be with him, to help him try to survive this. There was nothing really to do but wait.

She started to chatter about small, inconsequential things; the weather, her previous post in SHADO Security, James Rizzi’s style of art, her search for a flat in the area, her liking for Italian food; random, unimportant topics, but he seemed to be listening and occasionally broke in with a brief remark or query. The sounds of the SAR team, slowly excavating a straight path to them, echoed through the ruin, and it was while she was talking about the Northern Lights that she felt, rather than saw, a change in the mustiness around then. Fresh air flowed into the space and then gradually the darkness was lessened by lights moving closer.

Search and Rescue had reached them.

Colonel Philips sighed with profound relief as the first of the team clambered through the widened passageway, followed by paramedics hauling rescue apparatus and a Stokes litter. They soon cleared a path through to where she was lying, still nestled against Straker, her hand clasped in his.

‘Ok Colonel, good job. Time for you to get out now. There isn’t much room to work in here as it is.’ she was informed.

Reluctantly she leaned over and whispered ‘I have to go now. Don’t worry, you will be out of here very soon.’ before releasing his hand. He reached out to stop her, bloodied fingers clasping her arm.

‘Rachel, thank you.’ softly spoken, for her ears only. He let go of her, and she bent forward and gently, tenderly, placed a long, very deliberate, kiss on his cheek. He looked at her with quiet acceptance, and slowly closed his eyes for a moment as the team gathered round him to begin the lengthy, painful, and difficult process of extraction.

She was in the way. She blinked back emotional tears and started to make her way along the shored-up crawl-way to the outside.

Straker watched her go with a desperate sense of loss and abandonment. He could still feel her lips, soft on his skin. It had been a long time since someone had kissed him with genuine warmth, too long. He would speak to her, after all this was over, when he could think more clearly. It would be good to talk to her again. But for now the main concern was getting out of here.

As she emerged from the void she noticed that dawn was making its presence felt. The area was filled with SHADO personnel from the emergency teams, standing in the glare of arc lights around the perimeter of the incident. A helicopter was waiting, rotors turning, ready to transport casualties to Mayland’s SHADO unit. As soon as she stood upright, trembling uncontrollably with the sudden release of tension and stress, she felt strong arms supporting her.

‘I arrived just in time it seems. I do like it when girls fall into my arms.’ a familiar voice greeted her, and she turned round, looking up into Alec Freeman’s smiling face. Inexplicably she started to cry; deep wracking sobs that shook her entire body. Horrified he immediately imagined Ed, lying broken and lifeless under the rubble.

‘Rachel is Ed alright? We haven’t been able to get the radios working. The SAR said he was alive...’ desperately he questioned her, almost shouting in his sudden fear that something had gone terribly, tragically wrong.

She took a deep breath and tried to control herself ‘He’s okay, honestly, Colonel.’ she reassured him quickly. ‘The Commander was conscious when I left him, and there didn’t seem to be any major injuries. I don’t know why I’m crying. I feel so foolish.’

She was shuddering with cold and he quickly pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her. It was still warm from his body and she began to breathe slowly and evenly. Gradually the tears ceased until she was finally calm, holding him tightly and relaxing into the strength of his arms.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ she muttered finally. ‘I’m okay, it’s just that .......’ she broke off, unsure of how to explain to him how she felt.

‘Don’t be silly Rachel, you’ve been incredibly brave. No-one expects you to be calm in these circumstances. Go and get seen by the medics. Then you should go back to base and get some rest.’

She looked up at him shyly, ‘I’d rather stay and wait until he is out and I know he’s safe, if that’s okay with you Colonel?’

He looked at her with a knowing, sad, smile. ‘Be careful Rachel. I’ve seen that look before on too many women and let me tell you, it’s a forlorn hope. Ed has just one priority in his life and she is a harsh, unforgiving mistress. SHADO has cost him nearly everything but he’s still faithful to her. But .....,’ and he paused, ‘who knows?.’

She was too honest to try to lie to him. She hugged him tightly, hiding her blushes against his chest, then let go and walked away.

‘Good luck.’ Freeman whispered after her, gazing with almost fatherly affection at the dishevelled, diminutive figure stumbling over the rough ground towards the waiting ambulance. He turned back to the rescue scene, anxious for a sign of movement from underground.

Straker lay, still and silent, as the rescue team worked on him, wrapping a neck brace in place and, with painstakingly concern and utmost caution, turning him over onto his back. He had known what was coming, but, even prepared as he was, the pain as his trapped arm was released was unbearable and he screamed, hoarsely, uncontrollably, before briefly passing out. When he regained consciousness, shortly afterwards, he found himself strapped firmly in the casualty bag inside the specially designed stretcher, ready to be carried to safety. The morphine they had given him had started to work, and the pain was dulled and manageable, but he hated how it made him feel, the drugged loss of control. The crew talked constantly, reassuringly, and explained every step of the way what they were doing but he was too exhausted to try to speak. It was an effort just to keep breathing.

On the surface the bystanders were restless and nervous. Many off duty operatives from HQ had made their way to the scene, desperate for news. There had been no contact with the team below ground for some time, and rumours were beginning to spread. Even Alec Freeman was edgy, sniping at anyone who came near, and pacing restlessly across the walkways. It couldn’t take much longer could it, he worried. What was happening? Had something gone wrong? He knew that the SAR team were unable to keep radio contact, but it was getting unbearable. He didn’t dare look over at Rachel, sitting inside the warmth and comfort of an ambulance. Perhaps Ed had not made it.

Then, abruptly, the first team member scrambled out of the yawning gap. Looking around, he signalled to one of the waiting ambulances and then bent down to help his colleagues drag the stretcher out. Silence swept across the scene like an arctic wind. Everyone, standing motionless, waiting for a sign, as if caught in a photograph. Freeman knew that he would recall this moment for the rest of his life. Ed’s family, or as near to family as he would get, all captured in that one instant of dreadful anticipation. Please God. Please, he prayed. He couldn’t move.

And then relief washed over the gathering as the group lowered the stretcher to the ground and the leader straightened up, his circled index finger and thumb giving the watchers the okay signal. There was an audible sigh of relief from the bystanders, and, as if some invisible force had been removed, the groups started to move once more, talking to each other, hugging, shaking hands and sharing an overwhelming sense of relief.

Alec hurried over, heart pounding with relief. ‘Ed, it’s okay, everything’s fine. They’re taking you to hospital. I’ll be with you.’ he reassured him. A tousled helmet of impossibly pale hair, smutched with blood and dirt, could be seen within the swathes of protective coverings, but Colonel Freeman could see little of Ed’s face, hidden as it was behind the breathing mask providing warm air. Straker’s head moved slightly in response to his friend’s voice, but there was no other indication that he was aware of his surroundings. His eyes were firmly closed against the cold air and glare of unexpected lights.

Alec looked questioningly at the doctor. ‘Is he going to be okay, Doc? I can come with you to hospital to keep an eye on him, can’t I?’

‘The Commander has hypothermia, and shock as well as minor physical injuries from the blast. There is the likelihood of fractures to one hand and he is suffering from severe exhaustion. I can see no reason, however, why he should not make a full recovery very rapidly, for which the medical staff, will be eternally grateful. We all know how much he loathes being hospitalised.’

The doctor smiled knowledgeably at the Colonel. Straker was known to make life very difficult for staff whenever he was confined to hospital. He continued ‘I think it would be better if you met the Commander at the hospital though. It is rather cramped in the helicopter and we still need to run further tests on him., at this moment it seems that he has escaped without serious injuries but we will need to do  an MRI scan as soon as possible to check for any spinal damage.’

‘Oh boy, he won’t be happy about that. Just remember he’s claustrophobic won’t you.’ Freeman reminded him, then gently laid one hand against the scraped and bruised face of his friend. The Commander opened his eyes briefly, squinting against the dazzle of the lights. ‘Ed. I’m going to get back to HQ and check on things there, and then I’ll come straight to the hospital. Just behave yourself for the doctors and you should be out very soon. I’ll get Rachel to come and see you later. Ed......’ he paused, and bent closer.

Blue eyes, glazed and unfocussed with fatigue and pain, stared up at him. ‘Alec?’ he questioned, his faint voice just audible through the mask.

‘Glad you’re okay. I really don’t want your job.’ Alec Freeman commented dryly, turned to go, then on a sudden impulse leaned down and whispered to him. ‘By the way, Rachel has set her eyes on you. Watch yourself!’ and with a smug grin, Alec Freeman, a spring in his step, went to collect the Security Chief and whisk her off to the SHADO medical centre for de-brief and check-up.

‘I’ve known that for days.’ Straker muttered to himself. He would have smiled but it was too much effort. Warm, cocooned and relatively free from pain, he allowed himself the luxury of drifting into gentle sleep as the stretcher was lifted into the waiting helicopter.

**Epilogue**

Colonel Philips walked along the SHADO corridors to her office, running over the last three days in her mind. It had been good to get back to work and to be able to bring an end to the whole episode. Michael Jenson’s body had been discovered by a retrieval team some time after the commander had been airlifted out, and the post-mortem had discovered the remains of the implant in his brain. She had immediately ordered CT scans for any staff who had come into contact with aliens in the last three months, and she intended to scan all SHADO operatives on a regular basis. If the aliens could embed a device into someone’s head so easily, they might well do it again. Only time would tell. Even though they had failed this time SHADO would continue to be vigilant.

Her Security team had finally accepted the fact that she was in charge; they had been quietly approving and had gone out of their way to make things easier for her since she returned from debrief with her bandaged hands. Things were beginning to look up.

She had not spoken to Straker since the incident, although she had been kept informed of his condition. She had been to see him once, but he had been sleeping and she did not intend disturbing him. He looked drawn and pale, lying there under the white sheets, stitched and sedated, but at least he was alive. She remembered the kiss; would he? Alec knew what had happened; during her last debrief he had encouraged her to talk through the worst of the experience, saying it would help with the nightmares. She hadn’t told him about those, but he must have been aware that she was waking in terror, reliving the explosion, but always finding Straker dead and dismembered by aliens. It had worked; she hadn’t had a nightmare since telling Alec everything. She remembered that he had looked at her with new respect afterwards.

She picked up her coffee mug in swollen and stiff fingers. Alec had told her that he would be along to see her later this morning and she was hoping for news from the hospital. It was rumoured that the Commander would be discharged soon, and she was looking forward to seeing him back in HQ. It seemed empty somehow without his presence.

Her door opened and Colonel Freeman, smiling as usual, walked in. ‘Morning Rachel. How are things? Are you up to a little walk over to Mayland? The boss is awake and wants to see you.’

‘Of course I am.’ she replied, gladly. ‘I need to talk to him about finding a suitable place for him to stay until his house is rebuilt, if that’s what he wants.’

‘Well he’s waiting for you, so we’d better get a move on.’ and Colonel Freeman escorted her through the maze of underground corridors to the SHADO unit at Mayland.

She expected him to come in with her, but he knocked on the door of the private room, pushed it open, smiled at her and said, ‘Go on then.’

Suddenly she was overcome with almost paralysing shyness. It was one thing to kiss him in a situation where lives were at risk, but to have to go in, alone and talk to him, when he surely remembered what had happened....

Straker looked over at her. He was lying propped up on pillows, reading a report. A security member was on guard in the room and the Commander nodded to him, ‘You can leave us alone James, thankyou. I think I am safe with Colonel Philips for a while. Go and get a coffee.’

The door closed behind the guard and Rachel moved across to stand next to the bed. She was silent, not knowing what to say. The room was silent, tranquil. She stared down; at her hands, with their swollen and scuffed fingers; at his hands, with purpled bruises mottling the skin. She glanced up, and as she did so, his eyes met hers. There was a moment of absolute stillness, as if the world itself had come to rest, had stopped spinning. And in that one instant she knew that he was fully aware of her feelings for him. Deeply embarrassed she turned away from his bedside, but he reached out and took her hand firmly.

‘Let’s see how it works out, shall we?’ he asked quietly. ‘that is, if you want to?‘ he finished hesitantly, questioningly.

‘I’d like that, very much. I’d like to finish our talk without people interrupting us and dragging you away.’ she smiled. She bent over and gently, purposefully, kissed him for the second time, but on his lips. He contemplated her for a long moment in silence, and then reached out to pull her closer to the bed. His hand touched the back of her head and with surprising strength he pulled her to him and kissed her firmly, a long kiss that promised passion, love and trust.

‘Unfortunately I am going to be in here for a while longer.’ he told her resignedly, ‘but hopefully I should be released on Friday. We should get together to finish our conversation. I know a small Italian restaurant that makes some of the best lasagne I have ever had. Perhaps you would like to join me after work on Friday?’

There was no need for her to answer. Her smile was enough.

Lightcudder.

To be continued in ‘Surrendered’

 


End file.
